


The New Curtains Are Hideous

by periwinklepromise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mr. & Mrs. Smith Fusion, Confessions, Established Relationship, F/M, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: Her ...husbandis not all he seems to be
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: Natasha Bingo, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	The New Curtains Are Hideous

**Author's Note:**

> For Tony Stark Bingo (#3067) square K2: Spy, Secret Agent, Assassin or Hitman AND Natasha Romanova Bingo square Obliviousness
> 
> For the sake of TSB Round Up mods, may I present:  
>  **Name of Piece:** The New Curtains Are Hideous  
>  **Name of Participant:** periwinklepromise  
>  **Card Number:** 3067  
>  **Square Number and Prompt:** K2: Spy, Secret Agent, Assassin or Hitman  
>  **Rating:** Teen  
>  **Pairing:** Natasha Romanova/Tony Stark  
>  **Warnings:** None  
>  **Summary:** Her husband is not all he seems to be ... Mr & Mrs Smith fusion

“Ah, Tony, you're home!” She breezed up to him and gave him her usual kiss on the cheek. “How was your day, dear?” she asked, turning away as she would have on any other day; her only advantage was that this _Tony_ – or whatever his real name was – did not know she was onto him. It was sloppy of him, to play the long game with her. He should have killed her years ago, before they married. He certainly hadn't gained access to any sensitive information from his position in her life. She was sure of that, at least.

“Good, good,” he reported with a sigh while he hung up his coat and emptied his pockets. “Boss has me leaving for Atlanta tomorrow, though. Opportunity opened up last minute.”

“Of course,” she agreed easily before putting on a pout. “I wish you would have told me you were going to be late getting home; the pot roast has been warming in the oven for an hour now.” He'd called to ask for the time, even. His entire organization was sloppy, inefficient. He was not going to best her. Natasha was far too good at what she did, some _man_ was not going to be the one with the bullet for her.

He blew up her nest with a rocket launcher. Why did he even _have_ that out there?

… But Tony was always a bit … showy, she supposed.

“Sorry, honeybunch. Meant to, but my boss held me late.” He seemed nervous. Perhaps he was not as oblivious as he so often seemed in their six years of marriage.

She nodded sympathetically, patting his shoulder. At least he did not flinch. “You go sit down, and I'll grab the pot roast.”

Whether he suspected his cover was blown or not, she needed to be picture perfect. _She_ , after all, was a _professional_. She patted down her hair and smoothed down her apron before carrying in the roast.

“My favorite!” he cooed.

She smiled; she owed Irina for this one.

His knife was missing, she noticed. He probably tucked it up his sleeve.

She drew the carving knife, and his eyes flickered before he could plaster on a smile again. Yes, he knew she knew. A minor complication, nothing more.

Tony stood quickly and placed his hand over hers. “Here, let me do that, Noelle. You've been on your feet all day.”

“Thank you, dear.” She strode to the cutting board on the other side of the table and drew her bread knife from under her apron. She sliced a few pieces of the small loaf Marya had baked, ostensibly for soaking up the gravy. Tony's eyes flashed in fear, and she smiled at him innocently. She would not be declawed so easily, but she made a point to place the knife on the cutting board as she stepped away. He mimicked her, but he watched her like a hawk as she served the rest of the meal.

“How was work?”

A test, then. She gave an exasperated smile. “Not great,” she admitted as she set down the last bowl. “There was a slight problem with a client. Thought they were going to tempt us into a bidding war with another firm.” Thought they could hire two assassins for the _same hit_. The Red Room did not need to be double-booked. They were the _best_.

He hummed. “Must be frustrating.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, untying her layered apron and tossing it over a spare chair.

“Will you be able to work it out?” he asked carefully.

She sat down across from him and forced him into direct eye contact. Nowhere to hide.

“We haven't yet.” She smiled pointedly. “But we will.”

Tony picked up the salt shaker and shook it forcefully over his plate, adding far more salt than normal. His meal would be unpalatable soon. But he finally stopped, cut off a piece of meat, and chewed slowly. “You try something new?”

Someone must have, at least. She murmured assent as she picked at her side salad.

“It's good.” Then he cleared his throat.

This man called himself an assassin? She was not convinced he could play poker with any aplomb.

He stood. “Here, let me pour you some wine.”

“Oh, thank you, dear.”

He smiled tightly, taking her glass and filling it without a glance. He searched for something in her eyes.

When she accepted her glass back, she looked away to replace it. A mistake. She heard the bottle fall from his grasp and reacted on instinct – her left hand caught the bottle cleanly, immediately.

She froze … looked up to his face. He was frozen too, neither of them breathing, eyes locked. Did she imagine the betrayal she saw?

She let the bottle fall.

*

“I should tell you,” she started, switching out her magazine. “I'm an orphan.”

“Orphan? Then who gave you away at our wedding?”

From her position under cover, she admitted, “Hired actors.” Nathan and Elizabeth had been good too, very professional. They had not asked any untoward questions. And besides, it was not like Tony had brought his parents either, though she supposed they were probably dead too.

“I can't _believe_ I invited my real godmother to our wedding.”

She smiled, bracing herself as Tony swerved around an old pickup. Aunt Peggy had been nice, though her eyes were sharp. Perhaps she had been in the business too. “There's another thing.”

“Another thing?” he repeated, belligerent. “What, did you hire someone to replace you during our honeymoon, and I didn't notice?”

“My name is not Noelle. It is Natalia.”

“ _Natalia_?!” Tony screeched. She still could not believe he had used his real name. But she had used a name very similar to her own, so she supposed she was capable of being sentimental.

“You may call me Natasha.”


End file.
